Masked Passion
by Kamikaze Butterfly
Summary: When a murder takes place at Lordly Tailor, Mask*DeMasque and Luke Atmey have to join together and catch the killer, all with sparks flying between them. SPOILERS: T&T Case 2; SLASH: LukexRon/HoshiiSugi
1. I

_Meet me behind Lordly Tailor on October 1__st__ at 1 AM. Dress appropriately. Your possible refusal will result in your downfall._"

The paper in between my gloved fingertips quivered. The letter was short, too short. Its simplicity twisted my guts into a tight knot. I could barely breathe.

_Is that it? Unbelievable!_

Nothing but the note was sent. No maps, no diagrams, no charts… just the clear-cut request intricately folded and gingerly slipped into the envelope addressed to me. I expected more from my anonymous cohort. Then again, I was used to receiving package after package of valuable data, data almost worth as much as the item in question.

But this time there was no item, no prize to seek, no award to win… or was there? The letter did indicate that I was to meet my unspecified partner tomorrow, and the only noun of interest was "me." Although the individual who was assisting me while unashamedly blackmailing me was efficient, I was never informed of their identity.

Yet they were wholly aware of mine.

A shiver raced down my spine. I always wondered how I was so fortunate to become indirectly acquainted with my accomplice. After all, without them, I would have never been able to sustain my marriage.

"Ronnie?"

_Speaking of which._

I turned, cramming the letter into my pocket in the process, and grinned. "I'm over here, Dessie."

The brunette beauty sashayed into the room, that small yet irresistible smile on her face. My arms instinctively opened, and she slipped into them gracefully. Wrapping them around her perfect frame, I sighed peacefully and rested my head against her velvety shoulder. Slender fingers trickled down my back, sending ripples of honest affection through me.

The hugs she gave me were tender reminders of how much she needed me, how much she cared. The hugs I returned held just as much devotion and the promise that I would do anything to see that precious smile.

Anything.


	2. II

Slipping through shadows in the dead of night was like skipping through puddles in the middle of a rainstorm. Leaps had to be predetermined and measured flawlessly for the most success: the biggest splash or, in my case, the smallest amount of attention

The parking lot was empty and cold like the mask against my cheeks, yet there was still the likelihood of being seen. Tugging my cape closer, I sank back into the gloom and darted my eyes to the street before me. A red Honda passed by, possibly carrying a businessman on his way to catch a flight. I shook my head before turning it to Lordly Tailor. The darkness haunting the department store was particularly eerie, seeing that it was empty for once. That and the hypotheses of who lay on the other side made me almost hesitant to make my move. But I knew I had to, at least for Dessie's sake.

I bolted through the lot, burgundy boots barely skimming against the pavement. Hopping elegantly over the concrete islands heightened the adrenaline coursing through my veins. My breath, though rapid, was soft and silent. I banked right and immediately pressed my rear against the back wall of the outlet.

"Well, well."

Just as I caught my breath, it escaped me. The voice was charismatic with narcissistic spices sprinkled atop its words. I titled my head to my right just in time to watch a lean figure emerge from the dark alcove the walls made. It was a man, a lean one at that. His face held a nose suitable to be a perch for a finch, a square jaw ending at a clef chin, and atop his head lay dark, buzz-cut hair with outrageously long, blond spikes swept to his left. In his right eye was positioned a monocle that resembled a magnifying glass more than anything. He was dressed in an expensive-looking black suit with a crimson bow tied just so around his neck. White gloves had been slipped on his hands, and on his left middle finger was an admirable red gem.

"You're four minutes late, Sir Thief," he said.

I straightened my back but refused to speak. My incredible timidity had already engulfed me. I let my eyes drift to the blank sky.

"Do you have an explanation regarding your tardiness, Sir Thief? Or should I refer to you by your given name... Ron DeLite?"

Upon hearing his words, I sharply twisted my head to face the other. I spoke, but my voice was meek and tasteless compared to his. "Are you... are you my blackmailer?"

"Ah, what a crude, unsophisticated term." He shrugged slightly. "But yes, I am the one who has been sending you your directives."

"Why are you doing this!?" I cried, my hands squeezing into fists.

"You should be grateful, Mr. DeLite. Without me, you wouldn't be the MaskDeMasque standing before me. You would hardly be a thief at all without my assistance."

Pulling the floppy brim of my jade cap before my eyes ashamedly, I opened my mouth to speak but was instantaneously interrupted. "Remove the mask and your ridiculous hat. I yearn to lay my eyes upon the true features of MaskDeMasque."

An otherworldly force compelled me to do as the gentleman in front of me instructed. I shyly tugged the hat off my head, revealing the two buns of burnt-brown hair on either side of my face. I noticed his eye widen and his lip curl. Warmth raced through me, as I was sure his brain had suddenly been filled with sarcastic retorts concerning my hair.

I hesitated. When nothing was said, my trembling, gloved fingertips cupped the cheeks of my mask. A spark of embarrassment flashed in my mind, but it soon passed. This man was helping me, after all. I could at least repay him.

I pulled the mask off and let my arms return to my side.

My coffee-colored eyes watched as the expression on the other's face thawed. His smile softened and became sincerer. He reached for his monocle and plucked it from his eye, which confirmed my observation: it was, in fact, a magnifying glass. Holding it level to his face, he squinted and examined, muttering to himself on occasion. My eyes followed the subtle movements of the hand gripping his makeshift monocle. At one point, he caught my gaze, and I instinctively began to shy.

That was when his palm pressed against my cheek.

His touch was firm, but not as intimidating as I assumed it would have been. I dropped the pieces of my disguise in surprise. Perhaps it was the material his gloves were made out of... or perhaps there really was an ounce of light in his being. Either way, I trembled as he gradually guided my head back into his sight. A wide grin brightened his face.

"Zvarri!" he exclaimed. "How peculiarly handsome."

My face flushed. "C-come again?"

"Your physical appearance. Your features are subtle, almost feminine, yet I can see the flames of a true man burning in your spirit. It's quite attractive, Mr. DeLite." He returned the magnifying glass to his eye and steadied the hand against my face.

"A-attractive!?" I gulped. "I'm a married man! Besides, I'm not attracted to guys!! ... Wait, no. That's not right. I do think about men sometimes, but I don't think I'm..." My voice faded into the night. I made to turn my head in the opposite direction, but his free hand captured that cheek as well.

Our eyes seized one another's. I yearned for an opportunity to break away, but a newborn segment of my soul kept me glued to the spot. His dark orbs were so magnetic, they were drawing me closer. I couldn't stop myself from taking both of his wrists in between my fingers and running my thumbs across them.

When he spoke, his voice no longer took an egotistical tone. It was soft, soothing. "You say you think about other men sometimes?"

I nodded cautiously. "Y-yes, from time to time."

"Have you ever done anything with a man before?"

"N-no, I haven't."

His eye slowly fluttered closed, his brow furrowing. A soft sigh escaped him, and I knew what he was lost in thought about.

"Kiss me," I breathed bashfully.

I wasn't sure what came over me, but whatever it was, it caught the other by surprise as well. His eye jolted open, and his cheeks colored. I took the opportunity to continue. "Despite the threats, I've become attached to you. I occasionally think about discovering your identity and let my mind wander. This feeling, being unsure, excites me. That, and I've been wondering more and more what it would be like to be with a man. I love my Dessie, she's the world to me, but she's always willing to try new things, and I never get the chance..." My statement soon disappeared.

A merciless pause echoed between us. He slid one hand behind my head, the other arm wrapping itself around my lower back. The familiar sense of security filled me with warmth, and I allowed my body to melt into his when he pressed me against him. "Are you sure, Mr. DeLite?" he asked carefully.

I nodded slowly, but confidently. "Please, call me... Ron," I whispered, draping my arms around his neck.

"Ron." The way he breathed my name sent a vigorous tremor racing down my spine. My knees began to give, but he held me closer to his chest, pushing my head cautiously into his shoulder.

"Kiss me," I pleaded again, this time with excitement lingering in my voice.

And this time, he granted my wish.

Tilting my head gently to meet his, he emitted a soft, longing sigh. "Ron..." he murmured before gradually leaning into me and barely touching his lips against mine. The faintness made me quiver, and I returned the kiss eagerly, a gentle whimper escaping from my throat. I felt my hand slide down to his chest and my fingers entangle in his shirt. The sensation of our lips pressed together was breathtaking. We were actors performing the final scene of a romance movie. The two lovers were finally together, quenching their thirsts in a delicate yet steadily intensifying kiss.

My head was gently pushed back, and before I knew it, our tongues were tenderly wrestling, encircling and gliding against one another. I savored his subtle taste and the way his fingers played me like a piano.

Before I knew it, however, he broke the kiss.

I gasped, my heart pounding in my chest, and I slowly opened my eyes to meet his. The softhearted smile still rested on those velvety lips of his.

"You have to go home now, Ron," he said.

I cringed. "But–"

"Your wife will be worried." Even he looked disappointed.

Blushing, I spoke. "Will... will we ever–"

He nodded. "I promise you, Ron, we will physically meet again."

"Al... alright. Th-thank you for such an... amazing night."

"You mean 'morning.'" His chuckle was lighthearted.

Cracking a nervous smile, I reluctantly released him and bent down to take my mask and hat. The mask was cold again, but it immediately warmed once it came in contact with my flushed skin.

"Goodbye for now, Ron." The words that floated from his lips sounded so sweet.

"Goodbye," I replied before unwillingly slipping toward the front of the store.

By the time I reached my hideout, I realized that I never asked him for his name.


	3. III

Thanks again for coming with me, Ronnie. Sometimes, I just don't know what to buy."

"Of course, Dessie. You know I'd do anything for you."

The crimson glow lingered on the traffic light hanging above us. We were en route to Lordly Tailor, a place that suddenly filled my heart with glee. The events that took place that morning hovered in my mind like butterflies. I remembered everything down to the last detail: the way his gloves felt on my cheeks, the way his tongue tickled my lips...

A horn sounded, and I realized that my daydream was over for the time being.

"Is something bothering you, Honey?" Desirée asked carefully as I pressed the gas pedal. "You seemed pretty spacey this morning, and now this. I've been worried, you know."

My cheeks warmed. I refused to crush her heart, to put my marriage at risk because of what took place at the very location we were driving to. I wouldn't, I couldn't.

"No, Dessie, I'm fine. I promise."

I heard an unsatisfied purr on my right, followed by a shocked squeal. "R-Ronnie, the store!!"

I tossed my head toward the approaching building and gaped myself. Yellow police tape surrounded the retailer as did a sea of cars, their drivers obviously angered by the men in blue directing them back home. _No wonder the traffic was brutal._

"We have to see what happened!"

I nearly choked on the suddenly sullen air. "Wh-what, why!?"

"Ron, this is my favorite store. Besides, you're a security guard. Maybe you can help?"

Her pleading eyes made my spirit melt. "Al... alright, Dessie. Just let me pa–Ack!!"

Desirée, being the more spontaneous out of the two of us, leaned forward and clutched the steering wheel, spinning it as hard as she could. Awestruck, my foot remained glued to the gas pedal until she barked, "Hit the breaks!!"

The screech of the tires made my ears ring for several minutes, even as I woozily stepped out of our poor Volkswagen. I was barely able to shut the door before Dessie seized my wrist and lugged me over to Lordly Tailor's main entrance. Her determination was convincing.

My eyes were focused upon my feet as if their stare would help me scurry any faster. One would think I would be nimble on my toes had they known of my "occupation," but somehow I was only granted the skills of a thief when I adorned that intricate costume of mine, specifically the mask; it was as if its icy touch shocked my nerves and transformed my genetic makeup into that of someone much less clumsy than I.

I mumbled a short, thankful prayer when we reached our destination. Desirée released her firm, if not painful grip, and I rested both hands on my knees, trying desperately to catch my breath.

"What happened here!?" Dessie cried madly to what seemed like no one in particular, though it was obvious she was yelling at some sort of authority figure.

"The taking of a life... the ending of a man's existence. In other words... a murder."

_That voice...!_

I looked up weakly... and sure enough, there he was, dressed once again in black suit and red bow, white gloves and ruby ring. For a moment I stared in awe, my cheeks burning, but I immediately turned to my wife and stared almost blankly at her exasperated expression.

"A murder, in my store!?" Desirée's cheeks were already tearstained. She flinched when I rubbed her back, but then she slowly relaxed and leaned into me, sobbing.

"There, there, Dessie," I crooned, pushing her head into my shoulder tenderly. "Everything will be alright."

"B-but Ronnie! My s-store!!"

I closed my eyes and held her dearly. "There, there." I placed a delicate kiss on her forehead.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to leave now," one of the police officers muttered to us, "unless you have any information that will help Detective Atmey in this investigation."

Detective Atmey, the man I met that morning, smiled. I looked at the concrete warily.

"R-Ronnie's a... security guard…."

I flinched when the cop hummed sternly. "What do you think, Sir?"

I heard Detective Atmey sigh. "We are desperate enough to solicit the aid of your beloved 'Ronnie...' Would you care to assist us?"

"Y-yes, Sir!" was my suddenly lively response "Of course, Sir! I mean... Detective..."

My wife's sudden, deep kiss made me blush. "Thank you, Ronnie..." she purred, pulling away from my lips before I had enough time to even think of returning her affectionate act. Detective Atmey's eyes were solemn.

"Do all you can," Dessie said gently, giving me one final squeeze. "I have faith in you."

"I-I'll do my best!" I chimed, wiping her cheeks clean. "You can count on me!!"

She smiled sadly before slipping into the car.

"She's a pretty little thing," the officer mused. "You're a lucky guy to have someone like her."

My eyes floated toward the detective. "I guess I am..."

The three of us silently slipped inside Lordly Tailor.

The department store reeked of perfume and terror. I coughed uncomfortably. Detective Atmey and the cop, however, seemed too relaxed.

"His name was Carl Grieves," the cop stated loudly over the scuffling of other police officers. "He worked in the men's department."

"What a depressing day for fashionably-challenged males everywhere," the detective replied, brown eye watching me.

I gasped and turned my head away. "How did he die...?"

"It seems he was choked to death," said the cop.

"And no one noticed someone was choking him!?"

Detective Atmey chuckled. "He was not strangled by anyone," he enlightened. "Instead, he was suffocated by his own tie."

"But how!?" I cried. "Ties just don't go around choking people!! ... Wait, that's not right. When I wear a tie, and I tie it too tight, it gets really hard to..."

"We noticed his tie was snug around his neck," Detective Atmey explained. "When we examined it, we saw that, while it looked like an ordinary Windsor knot, it was in fact tied in the ancient Japanese '_kitsui_' knot used to hang the malicious."

I winced. "Ouch!"

"Indeed, 'Ronnie.'" He said my lover's pet name with just a hint of sarcasm, but I shrugged it off.

"What makes this '_kitsui_' knot so special?"

"It does not loosen. It only becomes tighter."

"Oh, I see! So... whenever Mr. Grieves went to straighten his tie…?"

The detective nodded. "He didn't realize he was killing himself."

"But how does that qualify as... murder?" I asked cautiously.

Detective Atmey laughed. "Consider the facts, my dim, redheaded friend. His tie was in a _kitsui_ knot. Not many can tie knots in that fashion, let alone have it resemble a Windsor knot. Even if one were to type in the phrase '_kitsui_ knot' and search all around the World Wide Web, nothing explaining how to tie it would be found. The few who know it are primarily Japanese, live on the other side of the world, and are unofficially sworn to secrecy."

I nodded carefully before realizing how stupid I must have looked and turning red. "Have any arrests been made?"

"Not yet," the police officer muttered.

"What about suspects?"

"We're currently investigating his background to see if he had any sort of enemies. As of now, we've got nothing."

"Who could have tied that tie for him? I wonder..."

"And who on this earth would have feelings strong enough to act upon and kill such a fine gentleman?" Detective Atmey chimed.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Boone, but you're going to have to leave."

The semi-aggravated voice of another cop near the entrance made our heads turn, and a pitiful scream made me wince.

"Please!" a sobbing woman cried. "I... I can't just leave him here!!"

As the two argued, I turned to the detective. "And that is...?"

"That lovely creature is Mrs. Rita Boone, the director of this branch of Lordly Tailor."

I jumped. "What if she did it!?" I cried somewhat hopefully.

Detective Atmey let out a hearty laugh. "Ronnie, think before you speak. That particular skill will keep you alive." I was about to question why he said nothing more but decided against it.

"Please, officer!!" Mrs. Boone wailed.

"Listen." The policeman's tolerance was obviously growing thin. "Either you leave right now, or I'll arrest you for harassing a police officer. Is that clear?"

Her eyes met the floor as she unexpectedly fell silent. Her body began to tremble, then shiver, then shudder so violently I had to avert my eyes. When a loud slam met my ears, I flinched and turned just in time to see her figure jogging away clumsily.

My heart sank, and without hesitation, I sprinted after her, calling out a useless "Wait!!" and reaching hand out to push the door aside. I heard the detective groan and the officer accompanying him chuckle teasingly.


End file.
